Dark Shadows: The Englishman
by WhyTK
Summary: The Englishman is in New York for business and pleasure. He is shocked to discover a connection to Collinsport, Maine.


**This story did not show up under _Dark Shadows_ the previous times I published it, so I will try, try, try ... again. **

**This story is a one-shot, unless I can think of a way to connect it to the other _Dark Shadows_ fan-fictions that I am still working on. This story is also a crossover between _Dark Shadows_ and a 2nd franchise that shall remain nameless for the moment. I have committed some huge continuity violations on that 2nd franchise. But to paraphrase Mark Twain: the franchise itself got what it knows about continuity from hearsay. So I make no apologies for the violations that I have committed here. **

**I do not own _Dark Shadows_ or any of its characters, institutions, or entities. I also do not own the 2nd franchise or any of its characters, institutions, or entities. **

**"Dark Shadows: The Englishman"  
><strong>The Englishman met Jane in the summer of 1971, while he was in Miami on an assignment. She was just his type. She was beautiful. She was married. She was dissatisfied enough with her husband to act on her attraction to the Englishman, but content enough with her marriage that she will not make a row by deciding to leave her husband for a younger and more attractive man.

Jane never calls him by his name. She always uses terms of endearment, such as "Darling ... Sweetheart ... Baby ..." He asked her why once, and she said, "So I don't call my husband by the wrong name on one of the rare occasions when he has me so excited I can't think straight."

The Englishman replied, "That's a very practical approach to the situation."

America is full of people called "Snowbirds," who spend their winters in Florida and their summers in New York, or other Northerly places. By their standards, Jane is a bit mad. She lives in Miami all year, but spends 2 or 3 weeks in New York in the winter. And she goes to New York City, not to the ski country "Upstate." She does a lot of shopping, sees some shows, and goes to auctions to do shopping that is even more expensive.

The Englishman had taken a winter holiday to spend part of January 1972 with Jane in New York. It had mostly been grand. Now it is January 1973, and he is in New York on an assignment. Which means the "firm" is paying his airfare and expenses this time. Do the job, go on holiday to spend some time with Jane, and then fly back on the firm's tab. He checks into the same hotel as Jane, but they have separate rooms and they do all their lovemaking in his room. The tryst starts well enough. They share an "Afternoon Delight" - as a popular song three and a half years later will call it - in his hotel room, on the 1st day of his holiday. Then they have dinner at a splendid restaurant.

But now Jane insists on going to an auction. The last time the Englishman had been to an auction had been during an assignment. He had to sit through 2 hours of other junk being auctioned off just to see who bid on a bloody Faberge egg. This promises to be much worse. The auction house is auctioning off certain items from the estate of a madwoman named Angelique Bouchard. According to Jane, the woman was responsible for 18 murders for hire, 2 acts of arson, and 7 counts of attempted murder by arson in the small town of Collinsport, Maine. Now, in accordance with her will, certain of her possessions are being sold at auction to benefit a charity the Englishman has never heard of.

Talking in bed before going to dinner, he asks Jane why she is suddenly so interested in the relics of the criminally insane.

Jane replies, "Because of you, my love."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You carry a gun. I discovered that the 1st time we undressed each other. When I asked you about it, you implied you had some kind of legal authority to carry it.

"But I have been reading up on guns since then. _Guns and Ammo, Military Small Arms of the 20th Century, _the_ Law Enforcement Handgun Digest_, and other things. I have learned that American policemen carry revolvers, either .38 Specials or .357 Magnums. The one big exception is the Illinois State Police, who carry Smith and Wesson 9 millimeter automatics. An undercover cop might carry a small, foreign automatic like yours - but not in a shoulder holster. That would not fit in with the people he is trying to infiltrate. And when you killed that mugger with your bare hands last year, you refused to call the police about it."

"I didn't kill him, I just 'roughed him up' as you Americans would put it."

"Bullshit. He was not in the papers the next day. I guess he missed the deadline, pun intended. But he was in them the day after that. Far in the back pages. The headline did not read '2-Bit Career Criminal found dead in alley', but it might as well have. New York is not my town, but I have money, which means I can make 'connections' anywhere I choose to seek them. I made some discrete inquiries. The man's arm and neck were broken. And the police attitude was, 'Good riddance'."

A gun is a tool for punching holes in an object at a distance. The bloody fool of a robber was nearly within arm's length when he pulled his gun (a Beretta .25 automatic, but a newer model than the Beretta one of the Englishman's predecessors had favored) on Jane and the Englishman. At that distance, the Englishman decided it would be faster to deal with him with his bare hands rather than trying to draw his pistol from its shoulder holster. He pretended to be so frightened that he dropped his wallet while trying to give it to the robber. The robber's eyes reflexively followed the wallet. Less than a second later, the robber's gun was hitting the sidewalk and his mouth was screaming. A blow to the back of his neck cut the scream short. He dragged the fool back into the alley from whence he had come. He returned to the sidewalk to find Jane with his wallet in one hand and the other hand reaching for the robber's gun.

"No!" he said firmly. He picked up the gun with his handkerchief and dropped it in the 1st storm drain they came across.

When they got back to his hotel, it was all he could do to keep Jane from stripping him in the elevator. Lying in bed later, she asked, "You have always paid for meals and taxis with a wallet you carry inside your jacket. Why do you carry a 2nd wallet in your hip pocket? Just for guys like that mugger?"

"Exactly. There are ten $1-bills in it. I've carried it for years, but this was the 1st time I had to use it. I must say it worked splendidly."

And then Jane asked him to show her his gun, the metal one that is. What caliber was it, what did all the markings on it mean, how did the controls work. He obliged her, as much as he could in a hotel room where they could not do any target shooting.

"If you are some kind of criminal, then you are MY criminal. And you are nothing like either the late unlamented Angelique Bouchard or the even less lamented fool from the alley. But Bouchard interests me because she had so much, and threw it all away, including her life, for mad personal reasons.

"And I have bought some guns for myself, to find out what all the fuss is about. The man at the gunstore said it was best to start with a .22, so I bought a Colt Woodsman. After I got the hang of the .22, I bought a gun just like yours, so I would know how to use yours if there was some desperate emergency and I had to use yours to save us both. I had to buy it used because of the 'bloody' Gun Control Act of 1968. And a month ago I bought a real American classic - a Colt .45 automatic. It's just as heavy as its reputation claims, but it does not 'kick' nearly as hard as its reputation would have you believe."

The Englishman looks at Jane with new respect.

They go to the auction. The Englishman likes most of the Americans he has met during his assignments in the States. But he is disgusted to see that the auction house, in the heart of New York City, fancies itself English. The good news is they have a bar. Jane goes through the catalogue, while the Englishman gets a drink. Jane never drinks at an auction, she likes to shop with a perfectly clear head. Jane goes through the catalogue page by page. Each item in the auction has a 2 page spread devoted to it. The right hand page is a full page photo of the item, and the left hand page is a description and history of the item. Jane thinks some of Angelique's jewelry and furniture look interesting. The last 6 items are the paintings of "Angie the Mad" (as the people of Collinsport now call her) and her 5 ancestors that once hung in the boardroom of the Angel Bay Seafood Company.

Jane says, "Look, darling. If 'Angie the Mad' had been married, she would have been just your type." She holds up the catalogue to show him the painting of the last Angelique Bouchard.

"Jesus Christ!" The Englishman's drink shatters on the floor as he snatches the catalogue out of Jane's hand. He stares at the painting of the late Angelique Bouchard, with his hands shaking and his face sweating.

Jane is shocked. Last year, the Englishman had killed the mugger without breaking a drop of sweat, or getting a hair out of place. Now he looks on the verge of fainting. "Darling, what is it? What's wrong?"

He goes back to the bar and orders a vodka on the rocks. He prefers his vodka in a martini (like the one now mixed with broken glass on the floor), but he's in a hurry.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong? Please tell me."

"I once knew a woman who looked exactly like this, except her hair was black. I mean, she looked EXACTLY like this." He shakes the catalogue.

"Black hair? Three of the Angeliques Bouchard had black hair. And except for hair color, 3 of them blonde and 3 with black hair, all 6 Angeliques looked EXACTLY alike. Look at the pages before that one."

The Englishman stares at Jane for a moment, and then looks at the preceding pages. He says, "This is unnatural. It's one thing for mother and daughter to look alike, but 6 generations who all look exactly the same, as if their fathers had no effect except hair color? And none of them took their fathers name? And all 6 exactly like the woman I knew?"

An auction flunky, responding to the broken glass and the Englishman's obvious agitation, approaches them. "Excuse me, Madam, Sir, is anything wrong? May I be of assistance?"

"Yes," the Englishman replies, getting a grip on himself, and taking a big sip of his new drink. "Is the executor of the late Miss Bouchard's estate here tonight? Or some other representative of her estate?"

"No, Sir."

"Then I would like to speak to whoever dealt with the executor."

"That would be Mr. North, Sir. You may speak to him at the pre-auction viewing, which is taking place right now."

"Thank you, I'll do that. I apologize for disturbing you and your guests."

"That's quite all right, Sir." The flunky leaves, grateful that the disturbance turned out no worse than this. He signals a lower ranking flunky to move in and clean up the glass.

The Englishman mops his brow. He takes another big sip, then puts the glass back on the bar. He assumes, correctly, that drinks are not allowed at the pre-auction viewing. Then he smiles, takes Jane's arm, and says, "Let's go in and have a look, dear."

"Are you sure? You look like hell. Forget the auction, let's go back to the hotel."

"No. I want to find out more about this woman."

"Read the catalogue. It describes her things, the ones being auctioned that is, and what she did."

When they go into the pre-auction viewing, they learn that Mr. North is talking to other customers. The Englishman looks at the paintings of the 6 Angeliques while waiting for a crack at Mr. North. Jane finds the look on his face disturbing. And when the Englishman finally speaks to Mr. North, he is not much help. The executor had called him and asked him to come to Collinsport, at the estate's expense. He had catalogued and appraised Miss Bouchard's possessions, and arranged the shipment to New York of the items to be auctioned. He had enquired only about the kinds of things he thought his customers would like to know, and all those things were in the catalogue. The Englishman asks him for the name of the executor, and where Mr. North stayed in Collinsport. Mr. North tells him. The Englishman shakes his hand and says, "Thank you."

The Englishman reads every word of the catalogue, starting with the descriptions of the paintings of the 6 Angeliques Bouchard. It is not much help either. Then he tells Jane, "I'm sorry to break up the party, but I'm going back to my room. And I'm leaving for Collinsport 1st thing tomorrow."

"For God's sake, why?"

"I have to find out what the relationship was between the Bouchards and the woman I once knew."

" 'The woman you once knew.' Did she hurt you so badly that you can't even say her name? Is that why you can't simply call and ask her if she's related to the Bouchards?"

The Englishman looks at Jane for a long time, trying to find the gentlest words. But he has ever been very good at gentleness. "She's dead. She died right before my eyes."

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry."

"Thank you." He kisses her. "I'm going. I'm sorry, but I have to be alone tonight. I'll be back in 2 days, and make it up to you then. Do you want to come back to the hotel with me now, or stay for the auction?"

Jane smiles. "I'll stay. I can get back to the hotel all right alone. I was hailing cabs in New York long before I meet you."

He smiles and says, "That's what I thought. But ring me when you get back."

"You're as bad as my husband, I have to call him every night." She smiles sadly. "Have a good trip. I hope you find what you're looking for."

"Thank you." He kisses her again and leaves. He had declined a copy of the catalogue on his way in. Now he picks up a copy on his way out.

Tonight is Monday. Back at his hotel, the Englishman tells the desk clerk to cancel his reservations for Tuesday and Wednesday nights, but he will be back for Thursday and Friday. From his room, he calls the Collinsport Inn, where Mr. North stayed, and makes reservations for the next 2 nights. Then he calls a car hire firm - correction, it's called a rent-a-car company in America - to reserve a car.

He skips breakfast at his hotel to be at the rent-a-car company early, and get out of New York before rush hour. The rental car turns out to be a 1973 Chevrolet Impala 4-door hardtop, with a maroon body and a white vinyl top. By the Englishman's standards, it is huge and ugly, slow and un-maneuverable. But it is fast enough to keep up with American traffic. It is also anonymous, given the number of "Chevys" on the roads of America. And even the "back roads" of America are wider than the country lanes of Britain and the Continent, so the Impala's size and lack of maneuverability should not be a problem on a holiday jaunt like this one.

Once he is out of the city, he stops for breakfast at the 1st Howard Johnson's restaurant he sees. He 1st ate breakfast at Howard Johnson's during his 1st assignment in America. He needed food, he was short of time, and the Howard Johnson's was handy. He was pleasantly surprised at how good the breakfast was. He was so impressed, that he gave them a go for lunch and dinner on later occasions. They were not nearly as good as breakfast. He has made a point of having breakfast at Howard Johnson's at least once on every subsequent trip to the U.S.

The sign in front of the Collinsport Inn reads:

COLLINSPORT INN  
><em>Est. 1761<em>  
>Jonathan &amp; Rachel<br>Drummond  
><em>Props.<em>

The Englishman arrives at the Inn at a little past noon, while the Inn's restaurant is serving lunch. Perfect timing, as he is pleasantly hungry.

Rachel Drummond (to be played by Kathryn Leigh Scott, if this is ever included in a movie) is behind the front desk when the Englishman comes through the front door. Rachel smiles at him and says, "Good afternoon, Sir. May I help you?"

Upon seeing Rachel, the Englishman's 1st thought is, "This woman is in her sixties, possibly seventy, and she is still what the Americans call a 'looker.' I wonder what color her hair was before it went grey." He smiles back at Rachel and says, "Good afternoon, Ma'am." His pronunciation of "Ma'am" sounds almost like "Mum." The Englishman continues, "I have a reservation. The name's Bond, James Bond."

**Notes  
><strong>1. Most of you probably already know this, but for those who don't: Eva Green, in a blonde wig, played Angelique Bouchard in _Dark Shadows_. In her own black hair, she played Vesper Lynd in _Casino Royale._

2. JANE Seymour was the leading lady in _Live and Let Die_, Roger Moore's 1st Bond movie.

3. The Englishman's "small foreign automatic" is, of course, a Walther PPK, the iconic Bond gun.

4. In the movie version of _Octopussy_, Bond attends the auction of a Faberge egg. This scene, with some heavy modifications, is taken from Ian Fleming's story "The Property of a Lady," which is in the book _Octopussy_.

5. Shooting _Live and Let Die_ began in late 1972, and it was released in 1973. There were many full-size 1973 Chevrolets in it, including white ones of the Louisiana State Police. Bond himself drove one full-size Chevy, probably an Impala, in _Live and Let Die_. It was a maroon convertible and older, probably a 1963 model.

6. Between _From Russia With Love_ and _Goldfinger_, Sean Connery appeared in the Alfred Hitchcock movie _Marnie_. In one scene, Connery's character and Tippi Hedren's character stop at a Howard Johnson's restaurant. The conversation they have in the restaurant could just as easily have taken place in Connery's car. I think the scene is one of Hitchcock's jokes: Bond, James Bond, at Howard Johnson's.

7. As I interpret Tim Burton's version of _Dark Shadows_, Jonathan Frid and Kathryn Leigh Scott played Jonathan and Rachel Drummond, Innkeepers, in the Happening scene. This is inspired by the "backstory" Ms. Scott devised for her character in Burton's _Shadows_. You can read it on pages 35-36 of her book _Dark Shadows:_ _Return to Collinwood_ [Pomegranate Press, 2012]. If Ms. Scott ever reads this, I hope she will forgive the liberties I have taken with her backstory. At least I gave her the name of a character that she _did_ play in the original _Dark Shadows._


End file.
